


Toasting to Robins

by zombiesbecrazy



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: April 27, Batfamily Feels, Brothers, Canonical Character Death, DC Comics Rebirth, Dead Robins Club, Gen, New 52, minor underage drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 16:39:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14453403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiesbecrazy/pseuds/zombiesbecrazy
Summary: Jason, Dick and Damian spend an evening together, toasting the fallen.





	Toasting to Robins

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place between Detective Comics 940 and 965 and before Batman Rebirth 16.

“Alright. You get one free shot. Punch me in the face.”

“What?”

When Dick had opened his front door that night he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but Jason Todd telling him to hit him was pretty far down the list, right below Alfred showing up and asking for his help in preparing Thanksgiving dinner in April. It wasn’t completely unheard of for the two of them to settle their differences with their fists, but Dick didn’t have the slightest idea what this was about because as far as he was aware, he and Jason were currently on pretty good terms.

Jason pushed past Dick and walked into the apartment, spinning around to glare at him. “When you came back from Spyral, I punched you in the face for faking your death.”

Dick closed the door and narrowed his eyes at Jason. “And?” This wasn’t the first time that the two of them had discussed his time as a spy, but other than that first encounter on the rooftop they hadn’t talked about the lie that led him there. Jason had been angry but with everything that had happened afterwards, Dick had thought that particular issue was over.

“You never mentioned that you actually died, you ass.” Jason had started pacing back and forth across the living room. “That means that the punch wasn’t cool and you owe me one.” Dick still looked confused and Jason sighed, apparently annoyed that he was going to have to lay it all out very plainly. He stopped moving directly in front of Dick and gave him a small shove in the chest. “You didn’t deserve to be punched in the face if you actually died.”

“I was only slightly dead. Five, six minutes, tops. It was like I barely lost consciousness.”

Holding up his hand, Jason cut Dick off. “Dead is dead. You get to be in the Dead Robins Club for fulfilling that sole requirement. As president and founding member, I’ll issue you a membership card next week.”

“But I faked staying dead.”

“That would make me a hypocrite because I didn’t let you guys know immediately when I wasn’t dead anymore. And when I did come back, I tried to kill you all multiple times. At least you were being noble and living the 007 lifestyle.  Therefore, you owe me one punch to the face.” Jason turned his head and tapped his cheek. “It’s only fair.”

“But I don’t really want to. I would have punched me too. I deserved it for vanishing on you guys.”

“Too bad. In order for us to be square, it needs to be done. Hit me”

“Can I bank it for the future?” Dick leaned against the counter and stared up at the ceiling.  This entire conversation was ridiculous. “I don’t want to hit you today, but one day if you do something that really ticks me off, can I use this punch then?”

“Nope.”

“But you punched me out of the blue.  You’ll be expecting it if I punch you now. If anything, you should get a spontaneous punch from me.”

Jason’s laugh came out as a snort. “Get real. You had to have known when you showed up that there was a very good chance of me hitting you. I’m just surprised that Timmy didn’t hit you too.”

“Your rules make no sense and lack consistency.”

“Part of my charm.”

“You aren’t going to leave until I hit you, are you?”

“Honestly, I’m not planning on leaving right away. I’ve brought dinner. And drinks. We are going to toast your living status.”

“Don’t get me wrong, because I’m thrilled that you want to hang, but that isn’t necessary.”

“Sure it is. It’s tradition in the Dead Robins Club to drink to the newly resurrected Robin’s health.” Jason jerked his head towards the front door. “The kid is bringing the stuff up from the car.”

“I have so many questions about what you just said.” Dick sighed and looked up at the ceiling, trying to sort his thoughts in his head. “You drank with Damian when he came back?”

“We may have had a glass of wine together.”

“He was eleven.”

“Kid had grown up with the League training him to drink poison. He could survive a little wine.”

“Still…” Dick could remember having sips of alcohol when he was a child, both with his parents and with Bruce, so he couldn’t judge. He especially couldn’t judge when he was faking his death at the time. “Whatever. He’s here?”

At that moment, the front door opened and Damian walked in carrying a few bags, and headed towards Dick’s kitchen. “Of course I am here, Grayson. Traditions are to be respected.” He sets the bags on the counter and examined Jason’s face from a distance. “Did you strike Todd yet?”

“Don’t you start.”

“It’s between the two of you but he seems rather insistent about it. I’m just glad I haven’t missed it.” Damian starts pulling bottles out of one of his bags, setting a six pack of beer and a bottle of whiskey beside him.

“You aren’t drinking those.”

“I didn’t think that you would approve. I brought myself some chocolate milk.” He pulls out a carton and shakes it in Dick’s direction, then pours himself a glass before putting it in the fridge. “However, for your information I have been consuming alcohol since I was six as part of my mother’s training.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Dick turned back to Jason. “Can’t we just skip the violence and just get right to the food?”

“No.”

“I still think this is,” Dick strikes fast and quick, connecting with Jason’s jaw with a loud crack, “a very dumb idea.”  It wasn’t quite by surprise, but it was at least unexpected that Dick hit him mid-sentence.

After stumbling back a few steps, Jason straightened up. “Took you long enough. Wasn’t thinking you’d left jab though. You don’t usually southpaw me.” Rubbing his jaw, he nodded, apparently satisfied with this turn of events. “Thanks.”

Damian had a satisfied grin on his face. “I think that was an acceptable hit.  I was expecting you to pull your punch a bit, but you didn’t.” He had set out all the food they had brought in the kitchen and was making himself up a plate. Satisfied with his selection, he passed them by to sit on the couch. “I’m going to find us a movie to watch while we eat.”

Dick and Jason took his place in the kitchen and started to serve themselves the food in silence.  Dick is about to leave and join Damian when Jason puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Why didn’t you tell me that you actually died?” His voice was low and rough and Dick wondered when Jason had found out because it sounded raw and fresh. After all that had just happened he didn’t expect Jason to be genuinely upset. Maybe on any other day he wouldn’t have been.

“It didn’t seem that important when I came back from Spyral.” Jason’s eyebrows raised and Dick knew he had to explain himself further. He put his plate back down and faced Jason, folding his arms across his chest. “You and Damian. You each died horribly and painfully and were gone for a long time.  It was a miracle that one of you came back, let alone both of you, and we are so lucky for that. I was serious when I said my death wasn’t a big deal, at least not compared to what happened to you. I was scared, but I was at peace with it. Bruce was with me and my heart stopping saved everyone else there. I got lucky enough to wake up again right away. I just didn’t think that it really puts us in the same boat. It feels different somehow.”

Closing his eyes, Jason leaned on his hands on the counter and while Dick could hear Damian setting up the TV, the space between himself and Jason was quiet. The silence lasted for a couple minutes until Jason turned back around, but looked at the fridge instead of Dick. “It’s always a big deal, Dick. And it isn’t a competition about whose death was worse or whatever, because obviously I would win.” Dick chuckled softly and Jason’s eyes moved to just over Dick’s shoulder. “I’m glad that it was different for you than it was for us, but I’m still sorry that it happened.” Jason shifted on his feet a bit. “My big brother died. And then he didn’t. And then it turns out that he did after all and I’m upset that I had to find about it by Damian casually mentioning it in conversation when we had breakfast this morning instead of hearing it from you directly.”

“I’m sorry.” Dick grasped one of Jason’s wrists and locked eyes with him. “About everything.” And he was. Sorry about faking his death, lying about his death and for hiding from the family, for Jason finding out about it on today of all days, but for so much more than that. He was sorry for not being a better brother or friend to Jason when he was Robin. For not being on planet when Jason died. For not trying to do more to help when they found out Jason was alive. For fighting with him. For trapping him. For throwing him in Arkham.

For all the times that he had let Jason down. 

Sorry didn’t even seem to be the right word to apologize for all the ways that he had failed Jason and he would never be able to make it up to him.

“Me too.” Jason placed his hand on top of Dick’s. “All of it.” And Dick knew that Jason understood what he was trying to say, and that he felt the same for different reasons. It wasn’t forgiveness, but an acceptance on both sides.

“Can it really be that easy?”

“Probably not, but we can pretend.” Jason turned back to the counter and started scooping food onto his plate from the take out containers. For all of this talk about death, there was an elephant in the room that no one had really brought up.

“Are you okay? Today, I mean?”

“I’m alright. Better now that I’m here and not left to my own devices.” Jason picked up his plate and the bottle of whiskey and headed to the living room. “Let’s go eat.”

The three of them sat on the couch, with Jason in the middle, eating and talking in front of the TV playing a movie on low volume. Once the food had been finished, Jason opened the whiskey and poured each him and Dick two fingers worth and muted the TV. 

Jason cleared his throat and rapped his knuckles on the coffee table. “I would like to call this meeting of the Dead Robins Club to order. As tradition, a toast to welcome our newest member.” Jason raised his glass. “To Dick Grayson. The first Robin to fly. The third Robin to fall. The third Robin to rise.”

“Cheers.” Dick knocked his drink against Jason’s and Damian’s chocolate milk before downing it.

Jason had brought absolutely terrible whiskey.  It tasted a little bit like how Dick thought gasoline probably did and it was a struggle to keep from gagging and from the smirk on Jason’s face, he knew it.  Still, that didn’t stop Dick from grabbing the bottle off the floor and pouring them each another drink, and after a moment of hesitation he pours a splash into a glass for Damian.

“Do not mention this to Bruce.” Damian’s eyes widened and mimed locking his lips, making Dick grin and Jason looked absolutely giddy. “I don’t know all the rules to Jason’s club…”

Sniffing his glass, Damian scowled and jerked his head back slightly. “He seems to make them up as he goes. He claims that it’s his right as club president.”

“… but I’d like to make another toast if that’s allowed.” Jason nodded, and Dick raised his glass. “To our lost brother. To Tim. The third Robin to fly. The fourth Robin to fall.” Dick followed Jason’s format, hoping that was alright.  All three clinked their glasses again, tipped them back and after a short cough from Damian, settled into a silence. None of them had been there when Tim had died, battling the waves of drones on the Old Wayne Tower rooftop, but Dick had seen the surveillance video. Red Robin had died a hero, saving hundreds of people, but that didn’t help to dull the ache at all.

Neither did the whiskey.

“Drake’s sacrifice was admirable and selfless, but he still deserved better,” said Damian softly, breaking the quiet.

Jason took another sip of his drink before speaking slowly. “Who knows?  Maybe someday we’ll get to have one of these nights with him too.” Dick looked at Jason skeptically, who shrugged in return. “When I started out, you told me that being Robin gives you magic and I believed it. I even said it to Bruce once trying to prove a point about something. Maybe coming back is just what we do. Our secret meta power.” Jason was staring off in the distance again, rubbing his fingers against his glass.

“You’re being rather sentimental.”

“I’m allowed to as club president. It’s in the bylaws.” Jason leaned farther back into the sofa and cast his eyes down. “Especially today.”

Leaning over, Dick wrapped his arm around Jason and gave him a gentle squeeze and felt him relax into him. Damian shifted closer and pressed his leg against Jason’s. For all the showmanship of Jason’s arrival at Dick’s apartment, this was the real reason behind tonight’s meeting of the Dead Robins Club even if Jason didn’t want to admit it. The anniversary of the founding of the club. The day that Jason Todd had died alone in a warehouse.

Today he didn’t have to be alone. Not anymore.

“You’re right. It is what we do. We come back. And we have each other.” Dick raises his drink once more and Jason and Damian mirror him, with Damian switching back to his milk. “To Robins who thrive.”

"To us."


End file.
